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vavoom-sorted-art · 3 months

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Sleight of Hand - Chapter 3: The Prestige

(tumblr will nuke each and every single page of this, so you besties only get a cropped cover. go to Ao3 or Patreon to see the full versions)

Only the most premium of premium porn can do @moonyinpisces’ writing justice, which is why this chapter took so damn long, but now it’s finally here!

All the comic pages are on Ao3 and the full uncensored version on my Patreon!

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers brokenly. The way he says it… it sounds like Song of Songs. It sounds like Twelfth Night. It sounds– holy.

The polaroid is face-up beside Crowley’s head, just inches away. Aziraphale leans down and kisses him, uses the distraction to carelessly throw it out to the center of the room before the guilt stalls him altogether. It’s not about hiding it from Crowley, not now. No, it’s that Aziraphale can’t bear to look at their faces when Crowley’s watching him openly, trustingly, knowing that he doesn’t deserve the automatic faith that he’s been given. The devotion to deception, to lies. Aziraphale kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him until it’s the only thing he can think about.

Soon, the sounds leaving Crowley’s lips become formless, shapeless. He thrusts up erratically, increasingly quick and shallow. “Oh, angel, I’m–”

“Say it,” hisses Aziraphale into his open mouth.

“Ah–” Crowley writhes in place. Tries, “Aziraphale–”

“No,” Aziraphale replies, bearing down harder and fluttering his eyes closed, brows tight. “The other thing. Say–”

“I– oh,” Crowley fumbles his hands up, pressing at the curve of his cheek, the nape of his neck. The words jumble out in inconsistent sizes and shapes, like he’d never voiced them aloud before. Didn’t know if demons could manage it before tonight, if beings materialized from hell’s machinery could communicate feelings so pure, so good to this magnitude. If Crowley can manage it without discorporating entirely.

He can. He says them over and over until they constitute their own language. A babbling brook, an unending stream. Aziraphale feels like he’s overflowing with too many emotions to ever quite name. Despite everything, though, he says them right back.

With a last forceful thrust of his hips, hands shaking on Aziraphale’s body and head thrown back in a silent sob, Crowley comes.

---

Keep reading on Ao3

Thanks for coming along for the ride and thank you moony for the amazing collab! It was super fun to adapt your writing into a comic!!

#good omens #good omens fanart #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #art #ineffable smut war #vavoom smut war #vavoomcomic #vavoomart #Sleight Of Hand

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mrghostrat · 2 months

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Aziraphale crossed the pieces and lifted the left up to his chin, but his own movements fumbled against Crowley’s grip. The man refused to let go, adamant to keep hold and tie it for him. He just— he didn’t know how. But Aziraphale needed that smile, needed to bask in the pride of it, so he let muscle memory slowly continue the process of lifting and crossing and folding things into place. Crowley’s hands followed along, his brows set in concentration as their fingers gently tangled together to guide the strip into a bow. [ BIG NAME FEELINGS ]

fellas is it gay to—

#of course i made more art for this chapter it's 12k and every single word is pinging aruond my head like a coin in a microwave #good omens #gomens #good omens art #good omens fan fic #bnf au #rat draws #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #good omens human au

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castle-behind-the-rocks · 2 months

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So like @mrghostrat also wrote this other really great Au: Mon Horrible Chéri it's an enemies to lovers Teacher AU and ahh they visit the Louvre <3 Go read it!

This is Fanart for the Louvre Chapter 3 because Love:

The whisper of fingertips against his skin vanished as Crowley slipped his hand back into his pocket. Aziraphale’s hand remained lowered, held down by the phantom weight. The students were fine without his constant fretting, that much was clear, but he was still struggling to make sense of the rest. He hadn’t expected Crowley — Mr. Science, King of “Doesn’t Work Like That” and stonewalled discussions — to brush off Beelzebub’s structure so easily. He thought Crowley would’ve liked the neatness of a worksheet; of a standardised, gradable experience. Aziraphale glanced back down at the stack of worksheets. The questions were simple and the whole thing would surely only take half an hour at most, but he could already picture the furrowed brows and restless fidgeting of students trying to describe new feelings within a limited, foreign vocabulary. One last look around at their joyful, awed faces and he knew Crowley was right. It would be such a shame to interrupt them. He neatened the edges of the stack and slipped the papers into his satchel. Two stressors down. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Enjoy the Louvre, he supposed.

Here is my last Fanart to his fic BNF Fandom AU

#good omens #my art #fanart #crowley #aziraphale #mrghostrat #fanfiction #I traced the Painting because the morphing Tools in Procreat are A+#Louvre #mon horrible cheri #Also ShoutOut to the BeeHive :)#mon horrible chéri

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actual-changeling · 8 months

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My own post made me think.

Let's say Aziraphale, the new supreme archangel, returns to earth and his bookshop. With some handwavey plot and explanation, he decides to stay and take it over again, but Muriel is free to stay, and they do.

Crowley has been visiting the bookshop on and off while Aziraphale was gone, and there's no reason to stop now, especially because Aziraphale said he wants to 'talk it out'. He hates that everything inside of him is screaming to be near him again, but he accepts it and does it anyway.

One step into the store, and Crowley flinches back, hard, like he's been burned.

He has been burned, he realises with growing horror, but he tries again with the same result. It feels different once Crowley scrapes together enough brain cells to pay attention to it. It no longer feels the way it did yesterday, familiar and welcoming, but searing hot and blindingly bright, like he will go up in flames if he spends more than a few minutes inside.

Aziraphale, eyes purple, gold on his cheeks, lightning hissing under his skin, stares, confused.

"You can come in, Crowley; I told you I just wanted to-"

"i can't." He grits his teeth and tries again, stumbling back when it stings even worse than before.

Crowley understands it first, eyes squeezed shut behind his shades, hands curling into fists. consecrated ground. and not just any consecrated ground, but the holiest he has ever encountered, including the fucking Vatican itself.

When Aziraphale's brows draw together in confusion, the same gentle wrinkles etched into his skin, he wants nothing more than to reach and smooth them out. Love does not leave easily; a spark of hopeful optimism always remains, no matter how hard he tries to rip it out of his chest.

"Your bookshop," he begins, his voice shaking, and when did that happen? "Your bookshop is consecrated ground your fucking supreme holiness, so no, I cannot 'come in'.

The closest thing he has to his actual heaven is torn away from him once more as he falls further and further from grace.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #mhhhhh i love pain #they say #grabbing their chest and dry heaving while sobbing

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knifeforkspooncup · 2 months

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Displays of affection I think would fit Aziraphale and Crowley's canon relationship and characterization (Part ||):

Part I here

Part III here

Part IV here

Aziraphale writing Crowley love notes and leaving them in the Bently for him to find randomly. Sometimes, he writes them in horrific French, and this makes Crowley snort because they make no sense and contain unintentional innuendos or swears.

Crowley growing roses to give to Aziraphale (they are the most luxurious and beautiful roses in all of London. Also the most terrified).

Crowley taking Aziraphale to see a movie (Aziraphale protests - he considers movies to be low brow compared to plays) and Crowley puts his arm behind Aziraphale's shoulders (a move he saw in a different movie) and they share a popcorn.

Dancing when they get very drunk, very badly, very clumsily, like a Waltz or something. It's a toss who leads who honestly. Crowley twirls Aziraphale and Aziraphale dips Crowley, how about that? They're knocking over stacks of books and spilling their drinks.

#i just want them to be happy #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #they deserve this and more

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swirlingthings · 6 months

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so… i accidentally wrote an entire scene based off an idea i posted on here about a month ago. it brought itself into existence honestly, i’m still not sure how it happened. never written anything like this before. it’s called ‘alien thing’. see if you can work it out before aziraphale does. enjoy :)

And perhaps, after a while, the team at the Saddlescombe and Poynings Observer newspaper office would be alarmed to discover that the crossword they had devised for today’s edition had mysteriously been replaced by one that nobody recalled sending to the printing press, or indeed seeing before at all. And in a cottage not too far away, Aziraphale would settle down into the sofa with the paper like he always did at this time of the afternoon; his slice of cake (Victoria Sponge today - “you can’t go wrong with a classic like that”, he’d told Crowley in the supermarket), his mug of tea and an HB pencil ready for him on the side table. And Crowley, on the sofa next to him holding a small book which had been miracled into existence the moment Aziraphale had gotten up to fetch the newspaper, would be so intent on doing everything possible to not look in the angel’s direction that he’d stare too hard at the potted plant across the room and cause it to wilt.

“How odd.” Aziraphale says, ruffling the page slightly as if he were testing to see if moving it would somehow change the way it was printed.

“What?” Crowley says, calmly. He was incredibly calm when he said this, calmly.

“This crossword.” Aziraphale replies, brow furrowing. “I think… look, look at this.”

Aziraphale shuffles across to the middle of the sofa, holding his arm out in front of Crowley so that he could see the newspaper clearly.

“Look. Here.” Aziraphale points with his pencil. “5 Down, six letters: ‘Luminescent dust between star systems’. I think it’s NEBULA.”

“Sounds plausible.” says Crowley, his eyes not moving away from the paper.

“Well, that’s not all. NEBULA gives us the ‘B’ for 12 Across, eight letters: ‘Parisian fortress’, which must be BASTILLE.” The pencil moves down and waves around a clue, then shoots back up again. “And the ‘E’ from that gives us SERPENT for 10 Down! Isn’t that funny?” Aziraphale says brightly. He looks up and beams at Crowley, who is still staring directly at the paper.

“Why’s that funny?”

“Well…” says the angel, his smile turning peaceful. “I don’t know. It just made me think of you, I suppose. What with your being a serpent in Eden, and rescuing me from the Bastille. And the nebulas, from Before…” Aziraphale laughs softly and settles back on his side of the sofa. “I don’t know. I’m being silly. I just thought it was funny.” he says, running a hand through his hair and picking up his mug.

And perhaps the minutes would pass, and Aziraphale would think between sips of tea and scribbles of pencil that there really was something rather odd about this crossword, wasn’t there? 17 Down, eight letters: ‘Machine run by rotating vanes’. WINDMILL. That was the name of the theatre in Soho where he had performed his magic show. Crowley had almost shot him. They’d had wine afterwards, in the bookshop. 2 Across, seven letters: ‘Remarkable and unbelievable occurrence’. That had to be MIRACLE. 21 Across, five letters: ‘Japanese vinegared rice dish’. SUSHI. His favourite.

And Crowley would sit excruciatingly still, in absolute silence, and make no attempt to actually read the book he was holding open in his lap. He would be far too busy trying to look cool.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale looks up at him, after a while, another smile creeping across his face. “26 Across is INEFFABLE.”

“Oh? You stuck?” Crowley says, stretching out his legs and keeping his gaze fixed on a page of the book. Wait… was he holding it upside down?

“What?”

“Well, if it’s ineffable you can’t describe it in words, can you? So you don’t have the answer?” Crowley slithers down the sofa cushion and holds the book in front of his face. He’s a very busy demon with important things to be busy with. “Finding the word’s the whole point of a crossword. You must be stuck.”

“No, I mean the answer is INEFFABLE, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s smile spreads wider. “You know full well what I mean!” he said, nudging him sharply with his feet. Another “Oh?” emanates from somewhere behind the book, which Aziraphale grabs and puts to one side.

“What on Earth have you done?” he laughs, his eyes first on Crowley then returning to the paper. “14 Down: ‘A small settlement without a church’... HAMLET! Oh Crowley, the play!” he says, jotting it down with the pencil.

Crowley smiles too. “How are you doing on the letters?”

“Yes, it’s six letters, HAMLET.”

“No, I mean the letters in bold. In the boxes. For the final bit.”

Aziraphale looks back at the paper, and notices that around a few of the letters he had already pencilled in, the margins of the boxes were heavier than the rest.

“It’s a puzzle thing. What’s it called… an anagram.” Crowley continues, leaning over on one arm and turning to face him. “Look at the letters in bold and it makes something else.”

Aziraphale gasps excitedly, and starts to note down the emphasised letters in a patch of empty space towards the bottom of the page. The ‘A’ from BASTILLE, the ‘E’ from SERPENT, the ‘L’ from NEBULA…

“Crowley…” he says smugly, and proudly folds the paper to his chest to indicate he is finished with it. “Is it AZIRAPHALE?”

“Don’t just guess. Work it out.” Crowley says gently. Aziraphale’s pencil resumes its scratching against the paper. He wonders how he ever lived in his flat in Mayfair, void of this softness and this warmth and this angel. They’ve been in the cottage now for a good few years. It’s all the things he loved about Aziraphale’s bookshop, with the added bonus of never worrying if he’s overstayed his welcome. It’s theirs, together, completely. He’s forgotten he was ever holding a book, let alone supposed to be busy doing something else, like trying to look cool.

“Oh, no, there’s the N from WINDMILL.” Aziraphale mutters, leaning forward to write on the paper which is now resting neatly on his knees. “Unless… I was wrong about that one?”

“Don’t look at me, I’m saying nothing.”

“No, I’m not wrong. Hold on.”

Crowley sits up a bit more, putting his elbow on the back of the sofa cushion and leaning the side of his head against his hand. He listened to Aziraphale continuing on - “I’ve got ALIEN. Hmm, wait…” - while he curled up his legs underneath himself. His nerves had eased slightly (Aziraphale’s smile had that effect on him) but had not dissipated.

“INHALE? No, no, there’s two ‘I’s. Oh, I’m still missing some!” Aziraphale says. There was another comfortable pause while he scanned the remaining clues.

“Right. 6 Across must be… PEAR. I love pears. That one doesn’t get us any further with the anagram, though.” Aziraphale says, looking over at Crowley as if he were learning this for the first time and might be disappointed by the news. As if he hadn’t snuck downstairs in the middle of the night on three separate occasions last week to draft every detail in a notebook which promptly ceased to exist once he’d finalised his plan. He’d sent off the miracle at one in the morning.

“16 Across, ten letters: ‘Destruction of civilisation’. Well, that’s rather dramatic.” Aziraphale looks up, a tad disapprovingly. “APOCALYPSE? No, that doesn’t fit with HALO - the penultimate letter must... oh, ARMAGEDDON! Of course. Wonderful! That gives us a second ‘N’.” he says triumphantly.

“Aren’t you clever.” Crowley says, which earns him another sharp nudge in the thigh.

“And then we have the ‘G’ from GARDEN, which gives us… the ‘T’, from BENTLEY. Is it definitely not ALIEN, then? I’ve got ALIEN THING.”

“No, angel, it’s not ALIEN THING. Stop guessing. You’re still missing some, look at it carefully.”

There’s another patch of silence. Crowley shifts uncomfortably on the cushion, unfurling his legs and stretching them out over the edge of the sofa again. He scratches the back of his head and resumes staring at the now fully wilted plant opposite him. His nerves are back. Not long to go now. Aziraphale’s clever, really clever, and he does one of these things every aftern-

As if on cue, the angel suddenly sits bolt upright.

The silence hangs in the air. Questions like ‘Why did I think this was a good idea?’ and ‘How am I going to pretend this never happened?’ start to creep into Crowley’s brain. His face feels hot.

“Oh, Crowley…” Aziraphale says, with almost palpable softness. Crowley dares to glance over: Aziraphale’s holding the paper with both hands and looking down at it, eyes beginning to water.

“Crowley…” he says again, frantically scanning every inch of the paper. He wants to be sure he’s right before he says anything. Crowley knows he will be, and briefly considers whether he could get away with stopping time, but it’s too late for that now.

“It’s NIGHTINGALES.”

Aziraphale looks up at him.

“Is it?” Crowley says, in a tone which he hoped sounded like he actually was learning this for the first time.

“Oh Crowley!”

He suddenly finds himself pressed against various layers of linen and wool.

“You sweetheart!” Aziraphale squeals, as he pulls him up from the sofa cushion and into the hug.

Crowley’s growl is muffled slightly by Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’m not sweet, I-” Whatever he tried to say next would surely be drowned out by Aziraphale’s laughter anyway, so he lets it go.

“You’re so clever.” Azirpahale says, settling himself directly beside Crowley and reaching for the paper, which he had flung to the floor when he’d moved. He looks over it again. “It must have taken forever, to work out all of that.”

“Nah. It was nothing, angel.”

Aziraphale smiles at the paper. “Well, I am thoroughly impressed. I…” He turns to look Crowley in the eyes. “I should have worked it out sooner than that. I didn’t… I didn’t realise that’s what you were trying to say. That that was the point of it, I mean.”

“Don’t worry. I knew you’d get them all.”

“That was very romantic of you, you know. To do all of that and have it be about us.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, it was.” Aziraphale smugly folds the paper in half. “I love you too.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Make my day.”

He gets a kiss on the cheek for that.

“Gosh, I expect the rest of my tea has gone a bit cold now.” Aziraphale says, without any trace of complaint. He wiggles back over to his side of the sofa and has a forkful of cake. “Well, that was exciting. I didn’t know they let people submit their own crosswords.”

There was a pause.

“Crowley.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Oh Crowley no, that’s awful. You should have asked for their permission.”

“Don’t worry.” He smiles at Aziraphale. “They won’t notice.”

the end :))

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens story #well… it’s a fic really isn’t it #good omens fic

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brainwormcity · 5 months

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No matter how many times I watch the final fifteen... I feel wrecked all over again. The way Aziraphale just barely wraps an arm around him with his left hand and the fingers of his right flutter over Crowley's shoulder, fighting the urge to hold him against him. His eyes falling shut and the almost imperceptible way he moves and lets Crowley pull him closer. The way his right hand hovers, the next time we see it, just above Crowley's back before he pulls away...

Meanwhile, Crowley with a white knuckle grip on his lapels and sweat on his brow. You can see him shaking. There's so much desperation and this air of futility, like one last ditch effort towards thwarting the apocalypse all over again.

The bitter frustration in Crowley's voice when he says, "don't bother," probably more closed off to Aziraphale than he's ever been since they day they met. Yet, he still stands there and watches the only creature in the universe he's ever loved disappear into the grips of a fascistic bureaucracy that has not only mocked him for millennia but mere moments before was threatening to destroy him.

6,000 years. 6,000 years! He knew. He absolutely knew that Aziraphale loved him too. There was no doubt in his voice when he remarked on how they could always rely on each other and how they had denied themselves their relationship all of their existence. He just hoped that Aziraphale would have chosen their side instead and not ask him to change. It's all so goddamn heartbreaking.

#y'all #i can't #you ever yearn for a love that's not even yours to flourish?#i *need* them to be happy #renew good omens #stream good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens kiss #good omens season two #the final fifteen

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averageanonymous · 3 months

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Summary: Something happened in 1941 in Aziraphale's bookshop. Something they blame on alcohol and adrenaline. Something they make an unspoken agreement to never talk about again.

Note: This isn't smut 😅 Just a little baby spice.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

It's dark, and it's late, and they're both a little drunk and shot through with adrenaline.

Well, what can you expect after an evening that started with blowing Nazis to Hell, swung round to performing a lethal magic trick in a crowded theater without a single miraculous intervention, and culminated in the closest call they've yet had with their... whatever this thing between them is.

So, yeah, you could say they've had a night. So if he makes a mistake, well, it's not like that's such a surprise, is it?

At least, that's what Crowley tells himself...

When he wanders after Aziraphale (who said something about tracking down a book with some really fascinating passages regarding blah blah blah... Crowley had, admittedly, lost track of what the angel was saying, too distracted by the way the candlelight caught in his hair and the way his lips smiled around the words he spoke) into the dark shelves at the back of the store...

When he realizes, standing behind Aziraphale as he searches a shelf, that his heart is inexplicably racing in his chest...

When Aziraphale turns around abruptly with an exclamation of triumph and a book in hand, and Crowley doesn't step back, doesn't move away, even though that puts them barely a foot apart...

When he takes the book, his fingers brushing against the angel's, sending a shock up his arm, and places it back down on the shelf...

When he leans in, so close now to his angel that their breath is caught between them, the heat rising from Aziraphale’s skin warming his own. The only thing between their lips is a question.

Crowley waits.

He holds his breath.

And for a moment, just a moment, reality beckons to him.

Then Aziraphale’s lips touch his own, and anything remotely resembling reality or consequences or a single moment beyond this one, single, solitary moment, is lost to him.

He takes Aziraphale’s face in his hands, runs his fingers up into his hair, soft against his skin. Crowley presses into Aziraphale until the angel's back is against the shelf. Then presses closer until there's no space between them at all. Aziraphale tastes like wine and starlight, and Crowley thinks that if ecstasy tastes like anything, it tastes like Aziraphale’s kiss.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale gasps between one breath and the next. His voice is rough. Crowley wishes he would say his name again, again and again, the sound of it like music, like a prayer. Crowley presses his forehead to Aziraphale’s, breathing hard.

Aziraphale puts a hand on his chest.

Then... then something changes.

"Crowley, we can't... I can't..." Aziraphale’s voice is soft, but urgent, desperate. Crowley looks up at the sudden change. Their gazes lock, blue on gold. Aziraphale’s eyes, reflecting candlelight and shadow, run through a dozen emotions, each on display for only a heartbeat.

"I- I need..." he starts, stops. Then, one emotion rises to the top. Aziraphale glances towards the shuttered windows and then back to Crowley. All at once, he looks afraid.

"Angel-" Crowley tries, running a thumb soothingly over his cheek, thinking to reassure him, but Aziraphale shakes his head once, firmly.

"They almost caught you tonight," Aziraphale’s voice is tight, "Because you were helping me with a magic act, of all the frivolous things." He closes his eyes, his brow knitting like he's in pain. "If they found out-" His voice cuts off abruptly as though he physically can't follow the thought through. He presses his hand more firmly against Crowley's chest. Pushes him away.

"I need you to go," Aziraphale says.

Crowley hesitates, then steps back. "Sure," he finally agrees, though his heart feels like it's just been torn straight from his chest, "Right then... I'll just show myself out."

Aziraphale nods. The space between them, nonexistent moments ago, now yawns like a chasm.

So Crowley turns. Heads back to the more well-lit front of the shop. He grabs his coat and glasses. And he tells himself that it was just the alcohol. Just the adrenaline. Just a mistake.

He leaves the shop.

He walks away.

He tries to forget.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Thanks for reading! I'm keeping my fingers crossed for 1941 Part III in S3 🤞

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #fanfic #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fanfiction #what happened in 1941 #crowley x aziraphale

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aziraphales-library · 5 months

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I remember a fair few fics where the premise is vaguely “Aziraphale does a blessing/miracle/other religious thing on Crowley and it’s strange/overwhelming/etc for all involved”. I just can’t… find any of them. I remember them being various ratings, pure fluff to pure smut

Your best bet is the divinity kink tag on AO3. Here are some to get you going...

The Agony And The Ecstasy by entanglednow (T)

A split second decision by Aziraphale to save them both from discovery leaves Crowley experiencing something he is unprepared for.

your love is sunlight by EveningStarcatcher (M)

“Why wait?” Crowley’s voice was faint, almost a whisper, but lined with the usual forced nonchalance. “What?” Aziraphale froze, brow slightly furrowed. “Just, I don’t have to wait.” Crowley’s cheeks flushed. “Could be all better right now. I mean. I-if you wanted.” “Are you asking me to heal you?” Aziraphale’s eyes flashed with something… divine.

A Negative Integer by racketghost (E)

“I’m the holy object,” Aziraphale says, and is also looking frantically around the room, the bookshop, the skylight filtering in the first glimpses of afternoon sun and holding dust particles suspended in their beams, dreamy and soft. “I can’t touch you.” “Yes you can,” he blurts out, and swallows down the cacophony of what are sure to be any number of embarrassing and hopeful ways in which the angel can touch him, really, whenever.

Bleak Without and Bare Within by Princip1914 (E)

Perhaps Crowley was right, Aziraphale thought. They were both working very hard in sometimes very awful places and for what? It was obvious that they couldn’t give up on temptations and blessings entirely--someone would notice, they had to surely--but combining forces here and there? What had Crowley called it, lending a hand, when necessary? It didn’t sound too bad. It didn’t sound like a good idea either, but Aziraphale supposed that was the whole point. It was a morally neutral proposition, and everything would still get done in the end. “I agree.” Aziraphale said finally. “As long as you accept that we’re going to have to teach one another.” Or, an angel learns to Tempt, a demon learns to Bless and things get a bit out of hand at the beginning of an unusual Arrangement.

Divine Hands by WanderingAlice (T)

After the end of the world didn’t come, Crowley had planned to spend a lot more time with Aziraphale, and Aziraphale didn’t seem opposed to the idea at all. Unfortunately there’s one glaring problem. Crowley has a strong, uncontrollable panic reaction to being touched by something divine. And Aziraphale cannot turn off his own divinity. A Good Omens Holiday Exchange fic written for the prompt: After the Notpocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale start getting closer...but they find out together that Crowley has deep-seated trust issues triggered by something about Aziraphale that he can't help. They have to overcome it together.

sanctuary by moonyinpisces (T)

“You’re staring.” “Oh dear,” says Aziraphale, completely unapologetic. “How rude of me.” Crowley begins to smile something slow, bright, and lovely, but he schools it with a bite to his lower lip. Aziraphale thinks of the way he looked two millennia ago, pressed up against the wall with Aziraphale's blessing healing his wounds, the only demon to experience divine ecstasy and live to tell the tale. How Aziraphale's hands itch to do it again, and again, and again. Crowley opens his mouth as if to say something, but then stops and spins around instead to go back to stirring the curry. “Shut up,” he says to the stove, flustered.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #divinity kink #adult omens #mod d

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raz-writes-the-thing · 6 months

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Bentley Shenanigans (Good Omens)

Crowley x Fem!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: Crowley needs to relieve some frustrations after that shitshow of a birthday party.

CW: vaginal sex, fingering, dirty talk, car sex, vague degradation/humiliation

Good Omens tag list: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

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This was possibly one of the most shocking things you had ever seen. Crowley was wearing white. You’d never seen him in anything other than black and when he’d first come to pick you up after the birthday party, you had known something was different, but couldn’t pick what it was. It had actually taken you at least two solid minutes to realise that it was because he was wearing white.

“What the fuck- you’re- what are you wearing?”

Crowley glances at you as he pulls into the parking spot at the lookout trail and turns the car off. Sometimes the two of you came out here just to get away.

“What- this old thing?” He chuckles, tossing his sunglasses onto the dash before sighing defeatedly. Oh dear, it wasn’t a good sign if he could barely keep his sultry demeanour going.

“I think,” he trailed off. “It is safe to say… that did not go as well as I hoped it would.”

You’re not really sure what to make of that, given that the balance of the world as you knew it hung squarely on Crowley and Aziraphale’s shoulders. Sitting quietly, you wait for Crowley to continue.

“I mean, really- you wouldn’t have thought it would be that hard, would you? Fucking nuns, Pet. Useless, the lot of them.”

Crowley pinches his nose and turns toward you, eyeing you up and down. Your dress has ridden up your thighs and you do not fail to notice the way he eyes you appreciatively.

“Fancy a quick fuck?” He asks casually. You splutter on a response for a moment. Here you were, discussing how the end of the world was fast approaching in less than a week, and Crowley wanted to shag? You blinked at him. That wasn’t to say you weren’t interested, either, mind you. You definitely were, but, it was just a bit out of the blue was all. What did that say about you, you wondered… In the face of the end of the world, you’re thinking about getting fucked one more time. Hmm. On second thoughts, you think it might just mean that you appreciate the fun things in life.

“Sure,” you say, cheeks pinking at the thought of him in that white coat bending you over and taking out his frustrations on you. “One condition, though.” Crowley’s brow arches, a sultry smirk appearing on his face. “The coat stays.”

“Your wish is my command, love,” he replied. “Back seat, then?”

You nod, shocked at the casual nature of this exchange. It wasn’t something you were necessarily unused to, but there was usually a little more pent-up energy and flirting beforehand. However, getting straight to it wasn’t a bad thing either. It was kind of refreshing, actually.

You get out of the car and go around to the driver's side. Crowley opens the back door for you and promptly bends you over into the back of the car. You gasp, your hands reaching out to steady you on the leather seats.

Crowley slides his hand up your sundress, exposing your black panties to him. He groans, gripping at your ass before letting go and giving it a rough slap. You jolt forward with the shock. Crowley tuts and grips you by the hips to drag you back towards him.

His hips ground against your ass roughly, his cock hardening beneath his pants. You bit your lip, enjoying the roughness of his clothes against your almost bare skin. Crowley laughed, reaching down to rip your panties off you. You let out a sound of protest, though Crowley shushed you.

“Fix ‘em later, promise,” he assured you before tossing the ripped remains of your underwear over your head and into the other door. Any further protests died before they even formed thought as his fingers slid down over the curve of your ass and sunk themselves into your tight, wet heat.

You moaned, thighs twitching as he fingered you open. If you weren’t wet before, you definitely were now.

Crowley removed the fingers once he thought you were wet enough and presented them to you to clean off. You did so without complaint or question, sucking his fingers into your mouth, tongue swirling over the digits to clean them of your slick.

Crowley grunted, the other hand undoing his pants and removing his cock from its confines. Once he was free, he pulled his fingers from your mouth, giving your cheek a little pat. The feel of the saliva cooling on your skin- the dirtiness of it- had you clenching.

“Look at that,” he groaned, pressing his head against your entrance. “Sopping for me, aren’t you? Filthy thing, you are, Pet.”

You nodded, pressing back against him. His head slipped inside, causing you both to groan. You with impatience, and he with pleasure. Crowley’s fingers gripped at your hips harshly as he slowly sunk inside you. Once he was finally inside you, you were finally able to relax. Feeling so full up on his cock felt like your version of Heaven.

God, Crowley made you so cock-drunk that it was ridiculous.

Then, your Demon started to move, hips snapping back and forth with fervour. It wasn’t long before Crowley was bent over you, yanking your hips into his own with every thrust. You were scrabbling at the leather, cheek sticking to the seat with the sweat. Loud moans and sharp grunts could be heard coming from the car, and you hoped that no one was on this particular walking trail today.

Then again, maybe you’d like an audience. The thought had you biting your lip to stifle the groan, and you clenched around the Demon, who straightened up and wrapped a hand into your hair.

“Fuck, that’s it-” he growled, fucking into you harder. “Reach down there and play with that pretty clit for me, Pet. Mm- like that.”

Your fingers reached your clit, rubbing tight circles. You could feel the push and pull of his cock from within you, could feel as your slick creamed around him. You cried out in sharp pleasure as he slapped your ass cheek again.

“Are you going to cum already, Pet? Huh?”

You nodded, the motion pulling at your hair just that little bit more. Crowley laughed loudly, fucking into you harder.

“Better do it then,” he warned. “Come on, cum for me, Pet.”

Your fingers were lightning quick on your clit. Your thighs were twitching and struggling to keep yourself up from Crowley’s punishing thrusts. With a loud drawn-out moan, you came.

Crashing waves of chaotic pleasure roiled inside you. Your fingers crushed themselves into the leather as you felt your release roll through your muscles. Your clit felt like it was on fire as you forced yourself to concentrate hard enough to rub yourself through it, contracting around Crowley hard enough to make him cum.

He grunted from above you, hips stuttering- and then you felt it. His release coating your walls. You whined, grinding yourself back against him as he started to slow. Crowley gave your hip a warning squeeze, but you ground yourself back on him, pressing him in as far as you could to make sure not a drop of his seed escaped you.

You sighed with relief, fingers slowing to a stop on your clit. Crowley was hunched over you, panting with exertion.

You laughed, the endorphins starting to kick in. Crowley chuckled breathily against your back and pressed a kiss to the fabric of your dress.

“That was fun,” you said, unsticking your cheek from the seat.

“Mm-” Crowley grunted in response. “Aziraphale will be jealous.”

You don’t think you’re wrong in thinking he doesn’t seem all that upset about making the Angel jealous.

“I think you’re right,” you pant back, slowly starting to catch your breath now.

“Alright, come on,” he says, picking himself up and slowly pulling out of you, shushing you comfortingly when you whimper at the loss. “I know, Pet. Come on, let’s get you back to the Shop, eh? The Angel will be missing us by now.”

You groan and force yourself to stand up. Your walls clench to keep Crowley’s seed inside.

“Don’t miracle it away,” you say, knowing that Crowley was planning to do so for your ease of comfort. “You know how Zira likes his seconds.”

Crowley tutted at you, a smirk playing across his lips.

“Naughty thing, you are. Whatever are we going to do with you?”

You hop into the passenger side again, your muscles thanking you for the relief.

“Guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

“Guess so, love.”

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mizmak · 8 months

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Is This Demon Broken?

I've been pondering Crowley's expression at the end of episode six as he drives away. You know, this one:

And I can't help but wonder why he doesn't look more like this, from series 1, when he believes he has lost Aziraphale after the fire:

And I have some ideas about this.

That's definitely a Broken Demon in S1. He doesn't know what happened -- only that he can't sense Aziraphale anywhere on Earth. He might be discorporated -- or he might be destroyed. And Crowley is grieving.

But his expresion in S2 is not one of grief. Yes, he's definitely Not Happy there -- he's lost Aziraphale to Heaven, after confessing his love. BUT there is something he knows that is causing him even more concern. Crowley knows exactly what Aziraphale is going to face in Heaven. And that knowledge is causing that furrowed brow.

Because he saw Heaven's next plan -- the one Gabriel tried to nix. He even hinted at it when he told Aziraphale, "When Heaven ends life on Earth, it will be just as dead as if Hell ended it." Alas, he was not specific enough, and Aziraphale just rolled on past that one, insisting he could make a difference. Crowley knows that isn't true. He knows that Heaven will ask him to implement the destruction of life on Earth, and he knows that Aziraphale won't be able to make things better. His best friend who he loves is about to be massively disillusioned and betrayed. He's going to find out just how right Crowley was about Heaven and when he does, Aziraphale is going to need him more than ever.

And he will be there, whenever and wherever that happens.

So I believe that as he is driving away, Crowley is not broken.

He is disheartened by what Heaven has done, and is about to do, to Aziraphale. And somehow, someway, he is going to fix it.

Furthermore, I think we already see that Aziraphale knows he is going to need Crowley. Because when the Metatron tells him about the Second Coming, his expression goes from curious/hopeful to this:

That's an "Oh fuck" look. And the very next thing he does is LOOK TOWARDS CROWLEY.

This is him starting to turn his head...back towards the bookshop:

And this is him looking over to where Crowley stands by the car:

"You were right. I was wrong."

And that's my take on this final scene.

#good omens s2 #go2 spoilers'#good omens episode 6

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ineffablelunatics · 1 month

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Crowley’s Memory of Saraqael and Furfur

There’s a distinct parallel to be drawn from Crowley’s interactions with both Saraqael and Furfur. Both times, Crowley pretends that he doesn’t know who they are. Both times, the opposite party explains who they are to him in detail. But what are the differences?

Furfur. Furfur comes into the dressing room with just Crowley and Aziraphale. He tells Aziraphale that they’ve never met, but Crowley has met him. Furfur explains to Crowley that they were in the same legion before the Fall. Crowley says that he remembers going into battle, but not going into battle with Furfur. Furfur becomes agitated and explains how they fought together. Then says that it doesn’t matter, because Crowley broke the Infernal Code by consorting with an angel. Then the rest of the scene ensues. But why did Crowley say that he didn’t remember Furfur?

It was the only power that Crowley could show in the situation. If he lashed out immediately then Furfur knows for certain that he’s guilty. If Crowley acts like he doesn’t remember Furfur then it could be plausible that he didn’t know that Aziraphale was an angel. It’s plausible deniability. His status in Hell also helps with this. From what we know the lower demons wants to be him and the higher demons are annoyed by him. The lower demons know that he gets to work on Earth, almost for himself, but the higher ups don’t like that he acts indifferent and can be quite arrogant. So when Furfur comes saying that he’s broken some rules, Too Cool For Hell-Crowley starts answering, “Who are you? I can’t even remember who you are. How was I supposed to know he was an angel? Who cares?”

Saraqael. The first thing that Saraqael does is answer Crowley’s question to Muriel about Gabriel’s trial which he hadn’t even started to ask yet. They say his chosen name and then say that they didn’t think that they would ever see him again(not too affectionately but not hateful either). Crowley says that he doesn’t know them and it seems genuine. Saraqael says ‘when you were an angel; we worked together on the Horsehead Nebula.’ During this statement, they’re almost smiling, but then he answers that he meets a lot of people whilst laughing, and this annoys them(similar to Gabriel later). But did he actually remember them or not? If he doesn’t, why pretend?

I think Crowley remembers who they are after they mention the Horsehead Nebula. Simply, because he laughs. At first, he looked like there was a blank, but of course, a nebula would trigger his memory. If he remembers them or not, he has two options: tell them he knows them or tell them he doesn’t. Pretending that he remembered them would maybe give Saraqael a reason to trust him. If they trust him, maybe they will let him look at the file anyway. If he does the opposite, pretend he doesn’t know them(or maybe he really didn’t), then it almost looks more honest and trustworthy. For some reason, most of the angels don’t take the time to remember them whether Crowley knows that or not, up for debate. But if he really wanted to get into the file, then wouldn’t the best way to be making a friend like he did with Aziraphale? But for some reason, he knows that it isn’t. Because I really do think that if he had told them that he had remembered, they wouldn’t have believed him. I think either way, they were going to let him into the file. The archangels believed that Crowley and Aziraphale had more information. Yes, he got himself into the file and all that, but Saraqael didn’t try to smite him, and that means that he chose right.

Between these two interactions, Crowley acts very differently to the two people involved. To Furfur, he acts indifferent, but also agitated. He’s wearing his hat to his brow with his glasses on and he keeps his legs turned away from him. To Saraqael, he looks them in the eyes with glasses that are quite light, comparatively. He doesn’t turn away and he stays engaged. He even laughs. The first thing that Furfur brings up the War and the Fall. Two things I don’t believe Crowley likes to remember. The first thing Saraqael does is answer questions and reminds him about stars(some of Crowley’s favorite things). They don’t bring up the War or the Fall or even Eden. They bring up the fact that they worked together on the stars. I think he respected them for that.

So does he remember them? I think so. I think maybe that he was drawing a blank on Saraqael, because from what we see in Before The Beginning, Crowley was very absorbed in his work. So he might would need some specifics to help him out. Furfur, on the other hand, he might not have remembered, because he blocked him out, because he tried to block the Fall and the War out. Either way, it was plausible deniability on his part. My main reason for his memory being intact(perfect?no) is Muriel and Gabriel. When Gabriel is in the bookshop with just Crowley, they talked about gravity and he said that it seemed like a good idea when “we” were all talking about it. He also knows Muriel’s rank and class without them ever mentioning it prior. He also knows exactly what their job entails. He also remembers where Gabriel was pulling those lines from when he would “wake” up. Crowley seems like he has a handle on his memories. Now, could there be something wrong with them or did something happen to them? Were they fixed? Maybe, he walled some of them off like humans do. Either way, I’m excited to find out.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens spoilers #go2 #good omens speculation #david tennant #michael sheen #good omens meta #good omens furfur #good omens saraqael #theory #meta

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